


So You Want To Be Like Jeff, Huh?

by Hopscotch12



Category: Jeff the killer - Fandom
Genre: Jeff The Killer Wit Persuasion, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopscotch12/pseuds/Hopscotch12





	1. Chapter 1

Hello Reader, My name is Jeffery. You may have heard of me - you probably have, or you wouldn't bother reading this. I have come across this teenager who claims to be me, he wants to be me. He pretends to be me. He likes the attention, likes the bravado, wishes he were me. Well, I decided to grant his wish. If being more like me is what will make him happy, then I am more than ecstatic to help him out. No, really - I wish he knew, or maybe I wish he never had to know. He asked for it, begged for it even. And so here it is, he wants to be like me. He wants to be like Jeffery Wood The Killer, he wants to be Jeff The Killer, Jeff The Insane, Jeff The Great, Jeff - Jeff In All His Silent, Smiling Glory. 

 

So I helped him.

 

It began on a Friday morning, I walked down the avenue leading to his apartment, or rather - his father's apartment considering he probably pays the rent. I wait for him, in the woods that is. I see him emerge from his household, whistling to himself. I nearly smiled. The thought crossed my mind that this is the first time I stalk someone without the intention to kill them, my first time to try and make someone happy. That's all I've ever wanted in my life, to be happy. I throw my cigarette bud on concrete and walk at a steady pace behind him, only to stop as I watch him enter the school premises. Today is the day. Today, Steve. I sit outside and watch the day fly by and before I know it, the school bell sounds and a flurry of ignorant school children run out to indulge in the now-beginning weekend. As usual, Steve walks out on his own. Dressed in all black and wearing that sickening scowl as though the entire world has a bounty on his head. Fool. Passing ignorantly by me, I stand up and walk briskly towards him, shoving my hands into my hood pockets. "Hello Steve", I begin, "Or Shall I say, Jeff?", he turns around to pay me the attention of unease I seek. "Not afraid that I'll kill you?", he spits in a voice like venom. No matter, he will soon ease. I know everything about him, I know, I do. "Not even a little bit, Steve", I smirk, from inside my hood. He ignores me and continues en route. "I know what they say, Steve - they used to say the same nasty things to me a long time ago", I say. 

"So?".

"I can help you. I can help you become happy".

"Fuck off".

I smile even wider his remark, reminding me of my own unfortunate childhood accounts when I would fantasize about ripping peoples' lips off and then offering them a cup of tea.

"Tut-tut, Stevie. You've been abandoned before, I know - But I won't abandon you, not like she did", I finish off, walking faster so that I'm in lead of him as he attempts to keep up.

"Hey! How do you know that? Who are you?", I hear yell behind me, like music to my ears. Steve is easily swayed, we must change that.

"Stop!", he pants behind me before I come to an abrupt halt. "Yes, Steve?", I ask him. "Who the hell are you?", he angrily demands from me. "The real question here, Steve, is who the hell are you".

 

I took Steve to a fish and chips fast food take-away inn where I waited for him to complete his meal. After an impressive burp and shove of his plate before sinking into his chair and taking a final sip of his lemonade, he was first to talk. "Did my mother put you up to this? Because I told her that if I have to see another psychiatrist I'm going to-", he started, "You're going to what, Steve? Run away, attempt to kill yourself, leave school, lock yourself in your bedroom? Yes, we've all been there. But no, I'm no psychiatrist, but I can make you better. Just like I made myself better", I reply quickly, steadily. He makes no reply nor protest, so I seize my chance to speak fully. 

 

"My name is Jeffery. I've been through a lot. A lot more than anyone has to go through. But the importance of it is that I went through it. Through it, Steve. And so will you. I want to help you", I say, never once lifting my face from under the hood. "What's in it for you?", he asks sourly, but un-reluctantly, through squinted eyes. "Ah, yes - the terms and conditions that simply refuse to not apply. Well, for one, I get to see you become a happier person. Like me, Steve. It's all I've ever wanted - to be happy", and with that, I leave the inn with an air of suspense behind me. Soon Stevie, soon, I smile

p


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I prepare to go to Steve's residence as early as I can. I lift myself out of bed and uneasy slumber and climb into my small apartment bathroom for a quick shower. I then pulled on a pair of black jeans, off-white sneakers and my white hood. I look at my reflection in the mirror. The scar across my lower face is still visible, an ever lasting smile. Perfect, this is exactly how I was meant to be. My complexion is still very pale and my hair as jet black as always, will I ever change? I skip breakfast and head out of the apartment building without bothering to lock the door - any robber would be a desperate idiot to try and rob me, I have nothing special. I cover my face with the hood and walk with a bounce in my step towards the Mitch residence and knock on the door to which a young blonde woman nearly immediately answered, I lowered my head. 

 

"Oh hi, honey - How can I help you?", she asked gaily. She reminded me of my mother, always used to act in the sweetest of manners - no one would have suspected the infant infected with a mental infection of madness. How she was slowly deteriorating inside, oh her poor, poor baby. All we can do now is be strong for him and - 

"Is Steve home?"

"Are you a friend of his?", she smiles.

"Yes, my name is Jeffery Wood. Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Mitch", I say.

"Well...He's up in his room, come in", she says, reluctantly behind her futile smile of welcome.

"Thank you", I reply, and ascend the long, creaking staircase to Steve's bedroom. I didn't knock and emerged to a sight quite beyond my expectations, but of course the idea of having expectations in the first place is not acceptable. It's not people that let you down, it's your very own expectations. 

Steve jolts up from his lying position on his small single bed under the covers, watching some explicit "adult channel" on his mobile phone. His nervous fidgety around behavior alluded that he perhaps searching for his jeans lost somewhere in the bedding in between attempts of, "Hey! What the hell do you--Think--You're doing here?", sort of thing. I simply ignore him and walk towards the small bedroom window right across the bed.

"Get dressed and take a shower. I'll wait for you here", I say, staring out of the window.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning, I prepare to go to Steve's residence as early as I can. I lift myself out of bed and uneasy slumber and climb into my small apartment bathroom for a quick shower. I then pulled on a pair of black jeans, off-white sneakers and my white hood. I look at my reflection in the mirror. The scar across my lower face is still visible, an ever lasting smile. Perfect, this is exactly how I was meant to be. My complexion is still very pale and my hair as jet black as always, will I ever change? I skip breakfast and head out of the apartment building without bothering to lock the door - any robber would be a desperate idiot to try and rob me, I have nothing special. I cover my face with the hood and walk with a bounce in my step towards the Mitch residence and knock on the door to which a young blonde woman nearly immediately answered, I lowered my head. 

 

"Oh hi, honey - How can I help you?", she asked gaily. She reminded me of my mother, always used to act in the sweetest of manners - no one would have suspected the infant infected with a mental infection of madness. How she was slowly deteriorating inside, oh her poor, poor baby. All we can do now is be strong for him and - 

"Is Steve home?"

"Are you a friend of his?", she smiles.

"Yes, my name is Jeffery Wood. Nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Mitch", I say.

"Well...He's up in his room, come in", she says, reluctantly behind her futile smile of welcome.

"Thank you", I reply, and ascend the long, creaking staircase to Steve's bedroom. I didn't knock and emerged to a sight quite beyond my expectations, but of course the idea of having expectations in the first place is not acceptable. It's not people that let you down, it's your very own expectations. 

Steve jolts up from his lying position on his small single bed under the covers, watching some explicit "adult channel" on his mobile phone. His nervous fidgety around behavior alluded that he perhaps searching for his jeans lost somewhere in the bedding in between attempts of, "Hey! What the hell do you--Think--You're doing here?", sort of thing. I simply ignore him and walk towards the small bedroom window right across the bed.

 

"Get dressed and take a shower. I'll wait for you here", I say, staring out of the window. 

"Look man, I'm not sure if you being here is such a good -",

"It's the best idea".

"Well, I don't think so. Sorry."

"Don't apologize for how you feel, Steve, there's no shame in being worried"

"Who says I'm worried?"

I laugh low in my throat. Yes, he and I are very alike.

"Go get dressed then", I say.

"Fine. But only because I want to", he scowls.

"Yes, I'm sure". I hear the door slam behind me and wait for his return. Outside on the street a woman is wearing a running outfit and walking her dog, a small woman or teenager is arguing with what appears to be her boyfriend and a child is walking to school in green and grey uniform. With my eyes on the arguing couple down below, I see that the young woman must be 19 to 21 years old. She's african american with a very short, combed afro and a pair of skinny jeans and a casual jumper. The man beside her is much taller than she is, maybe 5"8. That's when it happened, quick as a flash - he strikes her across her face and continues to brutally assault her. This is isn't my kind of thing, but hey - I was bored, what could I do? I casually walked downstairs and out of the door to the street below. 

I watched him kick her while she was on the ground, call her very unpleasant things and then announce, "next time, you're fucking dead", before walking down the road. I go and silently help her up and see that she crying. She doesn't accept my help as much as I expected her to, she took her things, thanked me and walked off in the opposite direction. I began to follow the guy. He walked up the street and I followed close behind him. Soon, I was just a couple of feet behind, another civilian going about their business. We neared a dark alley way with no one around, so I took off my white hood and pushed him onto the wall and pulled out my pocket knife. I shoved it into his stomach, he threw a punch. I swiveled my head back and lunged for his chest, over and over and over and over again. I started to laugh too, I couldn't help it. "Thought you could just do whatever you like, huh? Well, looks like there won't be a next time for you - because you're already dead!", I scream out in laughter, my smile being the realest one I've had in months - extended, never fading. I left my hood where it lay and found for a deserted tap where I washed the blood from my hands and my knife. I walked back to the scene of my prey to collect my hood and put it on. I turned around to see myself face to face with the female from the park. "W-what?", she tried. "I did you a favor", I say, and push past her, shoving my hands into my pockets. "Thank you", she hollers behind me, quite to my surprise. I pretend not to have heard and hurry back to Steve's home where I take my place back at the window. He comes into his bedroom, shoving on his converses when I hear him ask, "Have you been standing there the whole time?", to which my reply was,

"Patience is a virtue".


End file.
